


It's All Greek to Me

by emmaliza



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: 90s fic, Body Worship, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Gary is thirsty, Howard is a gift, Jealousy, Lust, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 04:53:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17298146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: Gary makes a friend, which is great, apart from the small problem where he fancies his friend like mad.





	It's All Greek to Me

The first time he ever sees a photo of Howard, his first thought is: _that's not a person, that's a Greek god._

He says something along those lines to Nigel, and then immediately gets embarrassed, afraid he's given too much away, but Nigel seems pleased. Only slightly later does Gary realise that of course he's pleased, that's the exact reaction he was hoping for. He's hoping for that reaction to all of them, but it's only Howard who keeps drawing Gary's eye, whose shots he keeps sneaking looks at while he and Nigel are having a proper discussion about this band Nigel wants to set up. It's really, really not like Gary to get distracted by someone he fancies when something relevant to his career is on the line. It just _isn't_.

He and Nigel wrap up their meeting and Gary heads home and he tries valiantly to convince himself he's not still thinking about that fucking photo, that man and his perfect six pack and his dark curls and those _eyes_ , god, those beautiful blue eyes that he's sure have gotten no shortage of girls in no shortage of trouble. But Gary isn't a girl, and he'd like to think if he did fancy other blokes he'd know by now (Adam Ant annual on his wall notwithstanding).

So he heads home, and excitedly tells his mother about his new manager and the new band he wants to form, without ever thinking about that one potential bandmate of his. He doesn't end up thinking about it later that night either. He doesn't end up hard on the couch he sleeps on because his room's too full of sound equipment for him to actually get in his bed. He definitely doesn't sneak off to the bathroom at two in the morning to have a wank because of this guy he's never actually met. Of course not.

And then he _does_ meet Howard, and all that denial goes to hell.

* * *

The problem is, if Howard were simply painfully good looking, enough to sway someone who'd never thought of himself that way before, that would be one thing. In that case, Gary could simply keep himself away from the man as much as possible while still being in the same band – at least until he'd figured things out a bit more.

The real problem is though, as he learns after Nigel summons all his prospective band members to his office one day, that not only does he think Howard is absurdly hot – but he actually just really _likes_ him.

So how the fuck is he meant to stay away?

Gary really doesn't mean to, but there's something about Howard, when he laughs and chats merrily at Jason introducing himself, then Mark when Mark pries himself from Robbie's side, but then shyly shrinks into the background when Mark and Jason get talking. There's something so big and tough, but also, so achingly vulnerable about him, and it's that which leads Gary to sidling up to him while nobody's looking.

“Don't worry,” he says softly, “I started thinking I wasn't pretty enough when I saw those two too.”

Howard turns around, and breaks into a grin. He laughs. He knows he's gorgeous, and so the joke lands. Gary can't help grinning in return. He loves to entertain people, he probably wouldn't have been singing since he was a child otherwise, but he always does that _through_ his singing; his personality, his ability to make jokes and whatnot, he's a lot less certain of that. Onstage banter he's got down pat, but charming just regular people...

But Howard though, Howard laughs at him. Howard seems to like him. Gary gets a warm feeling in his belly.

“They've picked those two to make everyone feel less pretty, haven't they? Bastards.” Gary laughs in return in that, and that opens the way for them to get talking. He's a bit quiet, this Howard, but it's alright, it only invites Gary to get to know him better.

And so it begins.

* * *

Before he even knows it, he and Howard are best friends. Gary's not sure he's ever had a best friend before, and it's nice. It's really like. Howard _likes him_ ; not as a singer, not as an entertainer, just for being... him. That's fucking addictive, that is.

The thing is, though, that none of this has stopped Gary fancying him madly. Quite the opposite, in fact, and it's getting to be a problem.

Any concern that he thought he was straight quickly disappears, although performing in gay nightclubs half-naked in leather bondage gear also does a lot to release his inhibitions there. Still, he's not sure how many men could face _that_ body and still not be at least curious. Speaking of that body: performing alongside him when he's wearing only a jacket and Gary can see every curve of that perfectly defined torso, that's one thing (it is a thing though, and he screws up a lot more notes next to Howard than he ever would have when he was touring the Northern club scene) – but what's worse is when they're staying at whatever roadside motel they can afford near their club, and he and Howard always room together, because of course they do. They're best friends, why wouldn't they room together?

But that means every night he has to stay in a room with Howard, he was to watch Howard strip all his clothes off before he goes to bed, and _jesus._

Gary tries not to stare, really he does. He burrows into his own flea-bitten mattress and tries not to watch how the muscles of Howard's shoulders ripple as he tears his shirt off and tosses it aside. He tries not to tilt his head to get a better look at that arse while Howard bends over to grab something out of his suitcase. He tries, _so hard_ , not to try and get a proper look at Howard's cock – and fuck, Howard's _big_.

_Of course he's bloody big. Every other inch of him is perfectly sculpted like one of those Greek statues, why wouldn't that be?_ he thinks bitterly.

The worst though are the times Howard thinks he's fallen asleep, thinks he can get away with a cheeky wank under the covers with one of the hotel-issue tissues. And Gary, he doesn't know what to do about that. He just lies there, still as a statue himself, not trusting what he might do if he lets himself move a muscle. He listens to Howard gasp and curse and moan to himself, and it drives him mad, wondering what he would have to do to make his best friend make those sounds for _him_.

It makes Gary want to cry out, makes him want to spread his legs and beg: _please How, if you want someone to fuck I'm right here, just take me, take me now._ And christ, that's just not like him. He's not a virgin, he's had sex with multiple girls (two) on multiple occasions (three), but he's not the casual sex type. Never has been.

But for Howard, he'd do anything.

More often that not, Gary ends up having to sneak off to the bathroom for a wank when he thinks Howard's finally fallen asleep. If Howard ever notices, if he isn't quite as asleep as Gary thinks, he doesn't mention it – which, given how much Howard is willing to make fun of his comparative inexperience in these matters (which Gary quickly gathers is because this is the one field in which Howard _isn't_ shy, and so it entertains him to see Gary become the shy one instead), he is grateful for.

The longer this goes on though, the more Gary starts to feel guilty. Howard has no idea that Gary's interest in him is anything other than friendly. He has no idea that Gary is taking advantage of their rooming together to cop an eyeful. Gary knows that this situation, where Howard is his best friend but also, he wants Howard to fuck him so much he might burst – well, it's just not sustainable, that.

But that doesn't mean Gary has a fucking clue what to do about it.

* * *

Alright, maybe Gary's a little bit tense. And maybe he's always been a little bit tense, but it's worse now, when he's got so many people's expectations riding on him – not least of all his own. He always thought that finding someone to take him on, a manager, a record label, et cetera would be the hard part, and that everything else would slot into place after that, but it turns out he's nowhere near breaking through yet.

It's Robbie who ends up getting the worst of his stress, which Gary realises isn't really fair, but it only happens because Rob couldn't shut up if you paid him too. Which Gary is increasingly tempted to try. It's just, it's not like _he_ enjoys these neverending dance rehearsals either (mostly because he always looks a right tit at them – he never realised what a bad dancer he was until he had someone to compare himself to), and yet he does his best, follows along with every move and learns them all off by heart, and so it frustrates him that Robbie doesn't.

(Alright, maybe he's just annoyed that Rob can put in half the effort at this that he does and still look a million times better.)

“Rob, do you mind?” he snaps one day while Rob is off luring Mark astray, the two of them grinning wickedly at each other and whispering in one another's ears, probably planning their next night time escapade. “I'm trying to focus here.”

Rob gives him a withering look, clearly just as cross as he is. “Get fucked, Gaz,” he says. Gary just rolls his eyes. “Jay and How aren't even here, what exactly are you focusing on?”

Unwillingly, Gary feels a blush rise to his cheeks. Rob doesn't mean anything by that. He thinks. He hopes. All Rob means is, Jay and How are still off working on the choreography before showing it to them, the three less accomplished dancers in the band.

That's definitely not another reason he's stressed, for the record. He doesn't worry that Jay and Howard spend so much time alone, working on choreography together. He doesn't think that Jason, tall, handsome Jason whose body is, objectively speaking, just as perfect as Howard's (and yet does not drive Gary mad in the same way) is clearly miles closer to being in Howard's league than he is.

He doesn't actually have anything to focus _on_ , just Howard's incredibly vague advice about how he has to let his body relax (which he tried very hard not to let give him dirty thoughts, and failed miserably). He won't concede the point to Rob, though. “We still have to concentrate,” he says. “You shouldn't let yourself get distracted. And you shouldn't go distracting Mark either.”

Mark opens his mouth, like he himself might have an opinion on that matter, but before he can voice it Jay and How come back in, distracting everyone. They look hot and sweaty, from the dancing, Gary presumes, and he refuses to let himself become either jealous or aroused because of that fact. “Right,” Jay says, thankfully getting in the way of their bickering. “We think we've figured it out.”

Two hands land on Gary's shoulders and he jumps. Then he looks up and realises. “You keep an eye on the little ones while the adults were gone?” Howard asks him, and Gary laughs, even though part of him wants to protest that he's twenty one, and only six months younger than Jason anyway.

“Hey!” Mark protests, while Rob gives them one of his trademark cheeky grins.

“Oh, he doesn't look after us like you do, Dougie.”

Gary turns to glare at him, which only makes Robbie's grin widen. _That's my name for him!_ Gary wants to insist, and it isn't really – everyone uses it by now – but _he's_ still the one who came up with it (although he can't remember why), he uses it more often than anyone, and he strongly suspects that Rob said that just to piss him off.

Howard snorts, while Jason simply rolls his eyes at Rob's behaviour – unlike Gary, he feels no need to snap. “Don't worry about him, Gaz,” Howard whispers in his ear. “They're always like that at his age.”

Gary stops. Somehow, that feeling, Howard's hot breath brushing against the skin of his ear, it sends a shiver up his spine and makes his stomach lurch out of his belly. He's always had a thing for ears. He freezes on the spot, not trusting that if he moves a muscle, his body won't give him away.

Meanwhile, Rob folds his arms over his chest and dons a faux-offended look. “Oh, is that how it is? Howard can chat away and distract you as much as he likes, but when I try it, I get shouted at? Typical.”

That snaps Gary out of his stupor, makes him blush deeper and avert his eyes. “Piss off, Rob,” he mumbles, before Jason gives them all a _very_ stern look that gets them all scrambling back into their positions, paying attention to the routine like Gary wanted in the first place.

He and Mark are up front, as the shortest two, and so thankfully (or at least, he should be thankful) he doesn't have to look at Howard while they practice, does have to see the way his perfect body moves to the music.

* * *

Gary returns to his room at that night, exhausted, but more or less feeling like he managed to keep up (although because he does all the singing, he usually gets the least strenuous moves anyway). Part of him really wants to crawl into bed and have a nap, but then he remembers that he _meant_ to write tonight.

He sighs. He likes being head songwriter, he really does – he'd probably have a fit if anyone tried to take that position off him. But it is a lot of work.

Nonetheless, Gary grabs his keyboard and his notepad, and steels himself for the task ahead. About an hour later, after he's made no progress whatsoever, he hears a knock on the door: “Gaz? You right in there, mate?”

Howard doesn't actually wait for him to respond before walking in, but that's okay – Gary tries not to do anything that, erm, he'd be embarrassed to be caught doing unless he knows Howard's asleep, or far, far away (which, really, is displaying a remarkable amount of self-control on his part, given the things he _wants_ to do whenever Howard's around). Gary looks back over his shoulder to Howard lingering in the doorway, and part of him wonders where exactly the other boy has been but then again, that's none of his business, isn't it?

“So listen,” says Howard as he closes the door behind himself, rubbing the back of his neck. “Me and the rest of the boys were going for a night out, y'know, explore the town. You wanna come?”

_Yes,_ Gary thinks immediately, because it's Howard and even after having known him almost two years, he wants to spend as much time with Howard as possible, despite knowing what a bad idea it might be. But then he remembers. “I have to work,” he answers with an apologetic wince, and Howard, Howard would never be offended by that, but he does snort at it.

“You're always bloody working, Gaz,” he says, moving further into the room and looking like he has no intention of leaving. “Rest of us worry 'bout you sometimes, y'know.”

Gary is struck dumb a moment, and then turns his head back to the notepad with nothing that hasn't been crossed out on it. “I'm fine,” he mutters. He likes to work. He's always liked to work. Why would he need anything but that?

While he's not looking, Gary hears something creeping up on him, and jumps a little when he feels both Howard's hands land on his shoulders. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, and then Gary freezes once more as Howard, oh so gently, starts to _rub_. “Jesus, aren't you tense?”

Gary lets out a little gasp, and says nothing. _What are you doing?_ he wants to ask, except he's afraid if he does, he'll make Howard stop. Howard's strong fingers dig into his muscles and it's _nice_ , it's so nice, it'd be nice even if he wasn't half-crazed with lust for his best friend. As is, his cock immediately starts stirring and taking an interest (it barely held on during rehearsal, when he kept hearing Howard grunt in exertion behind him), wondering what other parts of him Howard could touch like that. _This is bad,_ Gary tells himself as his legs spread beneath the desk, although luckily, Howard can't see that. _You should stop this._ But at the same time, how the hell is he meant to say no?

Howard, quickly realising that Gary isn't going to stop him and hence, gaining confidence, digs in a little deeper to Gary's shoulders, and Gary has to bite his lip to keep back a whimper. It should hurt, it _does_ hurt, but somehow, even the pain is satisfying. He feels like the tension really is leaving him, and fuck, how did Howard know exactly what he needed?

He groans and, as subtly as possible, arches his back a little, urging Howard on. He wants to be touched. He wants to be touched so much more than this, but if this is what Howard's offering, Gary will take it, gladly.

Gary is so overwhelmed that it takes him a good few moments to notice Howard shifting position, until he feels a warm mouth at the skin of his neck again. “You want this?” comes a soft voice, and then Gary feels two lips just beneath his right ear, gently sucking the skin, not hard enough to leave a mark, but just hard enough to make him think they might.

He throws his head back and moans. “Oh god, How,” he says, his cock now fully hard, eager. Those strong hands squeeze Gary's shoulders once more, and then finally, Gary's last two brain cells manage to connect. “Wait, fuck, Howard!”

Gary pulls his chair away in a panic, and Howard jumps away from him, hands raised in the air. For a couple of second, they just stare at each other. “Shit, Gaz, are you okay?” Howard asks him, frowning deeply. “I didn't, I was just – I thought – I thought this was what you wanted.”

After a couple of second's blinking as he processes the words, Gary starts blushing again. _Shit, was I that obvious?_ But then he registers the nervous look in Howard's eyes, and realises that what he needs to do now is reassure him. “I mean, I do, I–” _I want you so much it hurts, please just take me now,_ he thinks, but he can hardly just _say_ that, “I – I'm not saying no, just... what?”

Howard still seems shy, avoiding Gary's gaze directly, but he relaxes a little. “Um. Right.” He says, chewing his bottom lip. “Should I start at the beginning?”

_How?_ wonders Gary. _The beginning was when I first saw a fucking photo of you._ He starts to feel vaguely uneasy, like he's putting all the responsibility on Howard's shoulders or something.

“Listen, mate, I didn't mean to scare you,” Howard carries on. “Really, I wouldn't have tried anything except – Robbie had a word with me, you see. Said if I didn't man up and fuck you already, he'd have to do something about it. Didn't wanna risk that.”

Gary's jaw drops open. He wonders what the hell that means, but what comes out of his mouth is: “You know, when Robbie told me to get fucked, I didn't think he meant it literally.”

With that, Howard bursts out laughing, and all the tension is broken. Gary laughs along with him, and finally fucking relaxes. “So, um,” he says once they quieten down, “does Rob... know then?” he blushes a little, and says the next part as softly as possible: “you know, that I... fancy you.”

Howard blinks at him, then grins. “Mate, _everybody_ knows!”

“ _What?!_ ”

Gary jumps to his feet, incensed, while Howard just keeps laughing at his shock and offense. “C'mon, Gaz, you weren't exactly subtle,” he points out. Gary blushes again. “The others have been taking the piss out of me for ages, wondering why I haven't taken pity on you already. If you were any more desperate for it, you'd probably have been humping my leg in rehearsals like a dog.”

That makes Gary glare. Yes, that's true, and that's embarrassing, but there's a lot more to be said about it. “So wait, you've known this whole time?” Howard nods. “You've known as long as we've been friends that I fancy you something mad, and you never even considered telling me I might actually have a chance?” And Howard starts to look sheepish. “It's been two fucking years, Doug!”

“Look, I don't know!” Howard tells him. “I didn't know how you'd take it. I thought you might freak out and tell me you were straight and be all 'penis what penis' – you are a bit of a prude, Gaz.”

Gary's a bit offended. “Well yeah, but I'm not like _that_ ,” he says. “You know me. I listen to far too much Elton John for that.”

Howard laughs, because if anyone knows him and his spectacularly un-heterosexual tastes in music, it's Howard. “Well,” and Howard shrugs at him. “Sorry for being a tease then?”

“...Nah,” says Gary. “I mean, it's not all your fault, is it? I should have said something. I shouldn't have just assumed...” But looking at Howard, that incredible body even when it's being hidden by a T-shirt and jeans, Gary can't help but feel insecure. “But like, do you really want this How?”

Howard tilts his head to the side, confused. “What do you mean?”

Gary hesitates, withdraws a little. Part of him doesn't really want to ask this question, but he can't help himself. “I mean, you're not just – well,” he shrugs, “taking pity on me?”

“ _Gaz_.” Before he knows it, he's been grabbed by the waistband of his tracksuit bottoms, dragged toward Howard's body. He has to put his arms up to be sure he won't fall over. “Jesus christ, mate, of _course_ I want you.” And Gary gasps as he feels Howard's hands on both his hips, holding him still for Howard to, fuck, _grind_ against him – and Howard's hard too, Howard's just as hard as he is, _oh god_. “If you had any idea how many times I've tossed myself off thinking about you while you're asleep...”

Gary whimpers as he feels Howard's erection collide with his own, any flagging as a result of the time they spent bickering quickly rectified. Still, he feels he ought to say something. “I have some idea,” he says, although he never had any idea Howard might be thinking about him, why would he? “I don't sleep through the night as soundly as you think I do.”

Howard pauses a moment, then chuckles. “Pervert,” he teases and Gary opens his mouth to protest, but before he can Howard's mouth comes down on his.

He makes a noise, at first from shock, and then from something else as he leans in and lets Howard have his way. It feels strange, different kissing a man; he's kissed girls taller than him before but he can feel Howard's muscles and the faint hint of stubble against his jaw, and Gary's not really sure how to feel about that but he thinks he likes it. The muscles, he loves the muscles, he's always loved the muscles. He places his hands on Howard's biceps so he can feel and squeeze them, still rubbing himself against Howard's crotch and feeling the length of his dick, his _big_ dick, pressed against him, and that gets him so hot he can't even think to pull away. Howard groans as his teeth graze Gary's bottom lip, Gary can feel a tongue in his mouth and he moves his hands to wind them through Howard's curls, pull him in deeper, and he's sure that the way his tongue meets Howard's own is a bit clumsy but it doesn't matter; Howard seems to want him, just as much as Gary wants _him_ , and really, that must be a fucking miracle.

Eventually, they break for air, Gary burrowing his face in Howard's neck, almost afraid someone's going to force them apart. Howard grabs his waistband again and tugs. “Bed.”

He follows obligingly and they both stumble onto Howard's narrow mattress, himself landing on top with a thud. Then it's right back to the kissing, Howard leaning up into him and winding his fingers through Gary's hair this time. Gary winces a little at the effect Howard's strong grasp has on his bleach-damaged scalp, but it's okay, at least when he can still rub himself needily against Howard and the friction between their cocks makes him whimper and bite his lip, trying to keep control. He can't embarrass himself now, he just can't.

One hand still in Gary's hair, Howard's other making its way south and finding his waistband once more, pulling down teasingly. “We're still wearing way too many clothes for this, I hope you realise.”

Gary gulps. The thought of being naked with Howard is both tantalising and intimidating (it's happened before, but only for videos and photoshoots, with the others present; not just _because_ ) – Gary wants to see that fucking body, of course, but he knows he'll never live up. When Howard starts taking his trousers off, he gets embarrassed. “You know,” he says, just as Howard finds that spot below his ear again to nip and suckle, to make him pant and groan, “if I'd known you were gonna – I might have – something – sexier...”

Howard chuckles as he pulls Gary's trackies down below his arse, revealing his astoundingly boring grey-ish white multipack British Own briefs. Gary doesn't think he even owns any sexy underwear, he never saw the point, but now he wishes he had. “I reckon you look plenty sexy,” Howard whispers against his skin, which makes Gary shiver. Howard reaches around and grabs his arse, hard. “Mostly 'cause these look cheap enough I could tear 'em right off.”

“Ah!” Gary cries out as he bucks helplessly toward Howard, his cock twitching hard as he has his rear squeezed. He forces himself to laugh, breathlessly. “You try that, mate, you're buying new ones for me.”

Howard bites his earlobe. “Deal.”

Gary moans, trying not to be turned on by the thought of Howard doing just that, being so desperate for him he'd just rip off any clothing in the way. “Fuck, Dougie,” he pants and then, starting to feel very out of control, he grabs the hem of Howard's T-shirt and tugs, hard. “Clothes. Off,” he demands. “C'mon, I haven't spent this long drooling over your six pack not to get to see it when we're actually shagging.”

“Bossy,” Howard snorts at him, but he obliges, pushing Gary back just enough that he can sit up and pull his shirt over his head. While he's busy, Gary takes advantage to drop his own trackies over the side of the bed. And then Howard is, in fact, shirtless while Gary's sitting on his lap, and _oh boy._

It's not that Gary's forgotten what Howard shirtless looks like, of course not. He's gotten very familiar with that sight over the past two years, hence why they're in this situation to begin with, but it's different now, now he's so close and can _touch_ him, god, how he wants to touch him. Gently, almost reverently, Gary places his hands upon Howard's abdomen, runs his fingers up and down, plays him like a keyboard. He feels those muscles ripple under his touch, feels Howard suck in his breath slightly. “Gaz,” he whispers, and it's too much.

Gary places one hand firmly over Howard's heartbeat, and pushes him onto his back again. He follows him down, still not really knowing what he's doing, but knowing that he _needs_ to kiss and touch every bloody inch of Howard's body he can, now. He starts with a trail of long, dirty kisses just below his collarbone, maybe leaving marks, maybe not. Howard groans and arches up toward him, which makes Gary shudder at the added friction against his hardness. “Fuck, don't stop Gaz,” Howard mumbles, one hand grabbing Gary's shoulder, and as if Gary was planning on it.

He moves to the nipples next, and that little silver ring, calling out to him like a beacon. Slowly, he delves his tongue between Howard's pecs, lapping up the salty taste of sweat before sliding across, finding the pierced nub with his mouth. He looks up and meets Howard's eye just before he runs his tongue over it. _Like that?_ he asks, silently, and he watches as Howard's mouth forms an O-shape at the contact. Gary closes his eyes, wraps his lips around it firmly, and sucks.

“Jesus!” Howard calls out, and Gary feels the hand on his shoulder disappear. Howard must have felt he was running out of things to do, because soon Gary feels that hand grab his arse again, and gasps. Howard kneads him hard, spurring him on, and Gary moans loudly as he keeps sucking Howard's nipple, curiously poking his tongue inside the metal ring. _God, this isn't like me,_ he thinks as he shifts himself forward, letting Howard grope his arse more easily, with both hands now. That breaks the contact between their crotches, which makes Gary whine a little, but before he knows it Howard's pressed against his... he's rubbing up against his...

Gary moans desperately as he feels that cock, huge and hot and _there_ , right through Howard's jeans, pushing against his arse. It feels nice. He doesn't think he's ready for that, he doesn't think Howard would ask him to, but if he did...

Howard groans, his hips bucking up harder as his grip on Gary's cheeks loosens. “You right, mate?” he asks, panting with exertion, as Gary breaks away from the nipple and meets his eye again. _Is this okay?_ he asks silently, and Gary, despite the flutter of panic in his chest, nods. He wants _everything_ from Howard. Even that. Just, maybe not tonight.

With a bite of his lip and those fingers digging into Gary's arse again, Howard thrusts up against him harder, and Gary pushes himself back up, making Howard's cock rub harder against him through his cheap briefs, rapidly getting stained at the front. He likes it, he realises. He likes the thought. He likes the thought of Howard fucking him – really, properly fucking him one day, and _christ_ that's something to think about, isn't it?

Howard is starting to grunt, moan, curse and just how hot Gary finds that thought suddenly comes into conflict with _hang on, I'm nowhere near done with him yet._ “Hang on.” He places both hands on Howard's chest and pushes him back down, earning a disappointed groan. “I was in the middle of something, and you interrupted.”

That only gets him a confused look, but Howard doesn't protest when Gary drops his head back down again, starts mouthing along his torso – even if he has to shift his arse off Howard's cock. Gary misses that stimulation too, although it turns him red to admit it, even to himself, but he focuses instead on this body, this perfect body he's craved so many times, and wants to worship thoroughly. He kisses every muscle of that six pack individually, and as he works his way toward he reaches to Howard's fly with sweaty, fumbling fingers, wanting to see the rest of him.

It takes so fucking _long_ to unbutton him though, and so while he's halfway through Gary feels the need to stop and simply grab Howard, roughly, through his jeans. “God, Dougie,” he groans, his mouth just above Howard's navel, telling him things he's still not quite ready to say. Things along the line of: _I want your cock, now._

Howard moans, arching underneath Gary's mouth, a hand grabbing him by the hair. “Jesus, Gaz.”

Gary keeps unzipping him, pulling his jeans open and down to his waist and – nothing. There's nothing underneath. Shouldn't surprise him, from Howard, and that does seem like it would be uncomfortable but at the moment, he can't bring himself to complain. There's just Howard's cock, red and hard and – _huge_ , huger than he expected from seeing it soft, or from feeling it grind against him. His hand goes to it instinctively. “God How, you're _massive,_ ” he moans, fawning enough to put any porn star to shame. He blushes again at just how needy he sounds. “I mean, of course you are,” he says as he starts to stroke along the length, “every bloody inch of you is sculpted like a Greek god. Why wouldn't that be?”

In the middle of groaning as he's finally got contact against his bare skin, Howard frowns. “I thought all those Greek statues were famous for having really tiny dicks?”

A pause, and Gary tightens his grip on Howard a little. “That's not the point,” he declares. The point is, he _wants_.

He burrows his face against it shamelessly. He doesn't use his mouth, not yet, for the moment he just wants to savour it. He presses it against his cheek, feeling it hot and throbbing against his skin. He takes in the smell, strange and musky, but not bad. He tilts his head and mouths at the smooth, silky skin before licking it, long and slow from base to tip, and he doesn't stop until he hears Howard moan, while Gary has his tongue in the slit, lapping up drops of precome.

“Gaz,” he says, pulling Gary's hair again, hard, “Gaz, please don't tease.”

Gary pulls away a little, and raises an eyebrow. “I could, you know,” he points out. “After all, you've teased _me_ for two years.”

Howard simply groans and mumbles something indecipherable, but Gary isn't really going to. Not after he's wanted this for so long. He opens his mouth and wraps his lips around the head, ready to–

Well.

Something.

“Oh, jesus,” Howard tells him, both hands grabbing Gary's hair, not pushing him down but guiding him, a bit. Gary still doesn't actually know what he's doing, after all. But he likes it, he moans at the taste that fills his mouth, the taste of – well, skin, he guesses, but more than that, better and stronger and...

_Love,_ is the word that comes to mind. Howard tastes of love. And hey, maybe there's a song lyric in there somewhere.

He lets himself be pushed down, slowly, taking as much as Howard wants. He doesn't really think he'll be able to take it all, but the strain in his jaw excites him, it feels – dangerous, dirty. So unlike him. His hand still firmly wrapped around the base he starts to bob his head, as he's gathered he's meant to. Howard knows he's inexperienced – he's not a hundred per cent sure if Howard knows he's _never_ done _this_ before, but probably – and so is clearly trying very hard to make it easy on him, not to thrust into his mouth, but he's only human, even if he doesn't look it. His hips do move a little, in that fluid, graceful way of his, as Gary sucks more of him down. One move is a bit much, makes Gary cough a little as it pushes against the back of his throat, but somehow – that leaves a strange tingle there, that only excites him further. It makes him wonder whether – you know, if he practiced – he really could take Howard _all the way down_.

“Sorry, mate,” Howard says apologetically, and Gary looks up at him, shakes his head. He's not willing to stop long enough for anything else. He closes his eyes and bobs his head faster, still squeezing and stroking with his hand, exploring whatever he can with his tongue. His own cock aches with arousal, and he tries to grind against the mattress – Howard's legs are too far-spread to give him any relief at the moment.

He's in a rhythm, sliding his lips back and forth and moving his hand in time, when he starts to feel the tremble in Howard's thighs, sees that perfect torso quiver and tense. _Is he–?_ Howard pulls frantically at his hair, trying to push him away in time, but Gary won't let him. He keeps his mouth wrapped firmly around Howard's cock as he cries out: “Fuck, Gaz, I'm–!”

Gary moans as it lands in his mouth, thick and sticky. He swallows it immediately. He doesn't mind the taste; it's strange... salty and hot, but then again, so are all the best things. He's wanted Howard so much for so long; swallowing his come doesn't seem like such a burden.

Howard groans as he comes down off his orgasm, and Gary keeps sucking at him until the last drops are gone. When he pulls off with a pop, Howard looks down at him, smiles, and wipes away a bit of come leaking from the corner of his mouth. He sighs. “Jesus, Gaz.”

Gary raises an eyebrow. “Is that a compliment?” he asks, a note of insecurity creeping back into his voice. That _was_ the first time he's ever done that, after all.

“Yeah,” Howard tells him. “Up.”

Gary's pulled back up over Howard's body and dragged into another kiss, moaning between Howard's lips. _Doesn't he mind the taste of his own come?_ he wonders, but he kisses back enthusiastically, and well, it doesn't seem so. “You're good to me, you know that Gaz?” Howard whispers into his mouth, and Gary's not sure about that, but all of a sudden Howard's hand reaches into his briefs – no need to tear them off – and squeezes. All rational thought flees Gary's mind as he whines. “Can't believe I waited two bloody years for _this_.”

It doesn't take very long. Between Gary's inexperience and just how turned on this whole evening has left him, Howard barely gets time to stroke him twice before Gary comes with a gasp of his name, making a complete mess of his own underwear. He would be embarrassed, but somehow, he knows Howard isn't going to judge him for anything.

After they're finished, they silently agree to discard the rest of their clothing. Gary's briefs get clammy and cold after he's spent in them, and so he wriggles out quickly; he wonders whether or not he should bother getting rid of his shirt, before Howard goes and pulls it over his head, which settles that matter. Once that's done, they both settle into bed, Howard pulling the covers over them while Gary curls into his side, so they can both fit on the single mattress.

Idly, Gary runs his fingers across Howard's chest, while he slowly starts thinking again. “The others won't be wondering why you never showed up for their night out, will they?” he asks.

Howard scrunches his nose. “Nah. I told 'em I was going to ask you, but if I didn't come back down again, they shouldn't worry.” He pauses. “They probably knew exactly what I was up to, if I'm honest.”

Gary stops and looks up at him, a little startled by this information. “...We are the worst fucking secret keepers in the world, you know that Dougie?”

They both laugh at each other, as Gary leans his head on Howard's shoulder. Any concern over how the hell they're going to keep this one out of the tabloids is a problem for another day.

Reflecting on the night as a whole though, Gary suddenly remembers some of the things he just did, he thought – and it's not like Howard could possibly know what he thought, but still – and now he's not lost in the haze of arousal, he gets dreadfully embarrassed. “Um. Sorry I was so...” he tilts his head into Howard's chest to hide his flush. “Well. I was a bit, wasn't I?”

“Don't worry, Gaz, I liked it,” Howard chuckles, and wraps a warm, comforting arm around Gary's shoulders. “Never had you down for a demon in the sack.”

That only makes Gary blush deeper, but Howard presses a kiss to his hair that tells him that whatever he does, whatever he wants, it's alright with him.

“You're not going back to your own bed, are ya?”

Gary snorts. “Absolutely not.” He burrows deeper into Howard's side. “I just gave my first ever blowjob, I'm at least getting a sodding cuddle out of it.”

“Good,” Howard says, and squeezes him tighter.

And that's that.

Just as Gary starts drifting off to sleep, he thinks that yes, Howard has a body like a Greek god, but what Gary loves about him most is that he always feels so safe and secure with him.

* * *

Gary wakes up at the crack of dawn, still perched somewhat precariously on top of Howard. Howard's still asleep, and still has an arm firmly wrapped around him. Gary grins when he remembers what happened last night, sees the faint hint of a bruise beneath Howard's collarbone. It wasn't one of his filthy dreams after all.

They're both still naked, of course. Gary bites his lip. When he moves his hips, he's pretty sure he's got morning glory, and Howard probably does too – he's not that old, after all (although Gary would never tell him that). It would be so easy to work it out together and...

Gary sighs. They probably don't have time. It is the crack of dawn, and they're always due at rehearsals at approximately five past the crack of dawn. Besides, god knows when Howard's going to wake up. _Lazy bastard,_ Gary thinks fondly.

It's a bit disappointing, but it doesn't matter really. They can always do it when they get back.

Gary's sure that, now, Howard's body is his, whenever he wants it.

 


End file.
